Chapter 2: The Deckhand

The response to my advertisement for a deckhand brought a very sparse return. I had six letters containing what you might call a résumé, but that was stretching the definition for most. Only one of them caught my eye. A. R. (Del) Quinton provided a carefully and cleanly written application stating age, physical size, experience, and references.

Mr. Quinton had spent three years with Inlet Towing and listed the general manager as a reference. He also had a certificate of marine emergency duties from the British Columbia Institute of Technology. I didn't even know such a course existed. He was a graduate of B.C.I.T. in marine engineering. I looked up the courses on the website and I was impressed. At five-foot-ten and a hundred-sixty pounds, he wouldn't be the biggest deckhand I'd ever hired, but the experience and education was the clincher. This man was overqualified for the job, but if that's what he wanted, I'd be a fool not to interview him.

There was no phone number on the application, however there was an e-mail address. I typed a response and requested he contact me for an interview, preferably at the boat. I got a reply within a few minutes. Good! I arranged for him to meet me at the security gate at the yacht club at three that afternoon.

"Mister Hamelin?" a woman asked as I waited at the gate.

"Yes?"

"I'm Del Quinton," she smiled. "Sorry to mislead you, but I didn't want to prejudice my interview before it began."

I looked her over, a bit upset that I had been slightly deceived.

"That wasn't necessary. I've hired women deckhands before," I said abruptly.

"Good, then you can see from my application that I have the experience and some additional assets that can be of use to you."

I'll give her this. She was cool and unruffled by my somewhat chilly reception.

"So, what is your proper name?" I asked as I guided her through the security gate and down onto the floating dock.

"Ardele Roberta Quinton, but most of my friends and relatives call me 'Del.'"

"Three years on the tow boats at Inlet, I see."

"Yes. My father had a friend who was a senior manager at Inlet. I pretty much begged to get a chance. I'm glad I did, but I wouldn't go back there."

"Too hard?"

"It isn't the best environment for a woman. Booze and drugs among a lot of the hands. I loved the work, but after a while I decided there must be something better. Something that would keep me on the water and not have to put up with the shi ... uh ... crap that was a steady diet after a while."

I nodded. She had a weathered look to her face and didn't bother to "dress up" for the interview. There were no skin-tight jeans, but rather baggy cotton cargo pants and a flannel snap-button shirt with a clean white t-shirt underneath. The boots were well worn soft-soled safety boots, obviously from her time on the tugs.

"What did you do before Inlet?"

"I worked for Burrard Marine at their chandlery. That's where I met my husband, to my regret."

"How long have you been married?"

"Six years. He figured out he didn't really have to work since I could support both of us on my income. That should have been the end right there, but I let it go on for a couple of years before I'd had enough."

"Why don't you come aboard and we can discuss what the job is all about?"

She followed me as we stepped onto the afterdeck of my boat and I saw her appraising it immediately. I let her look around and was pretty sure she was getting a good first impression. For that matter, I was getting a pretty good first impression of Del Quinton.

She was no raving beauty, but she was attractive in a rough-hewn sort of way. Her face told you that she lived an outdoor life and her body, although fairly well hidden by her clothes, implied she was fit and probably strong. Her blonde hair was short, cut just above the nape of her neck. When she finished her preliminary survey, she smiled, showing perfect white teeth.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked.

"I like it. I like it a lot. How old?"

"Fifty-two years. Built by Shadwell in 1959. Re-engined in 1970, restored in 2007 with new electronics and galley, along with a lot of the fittings and hardware."

"Diesel?"

"Twin Perkins plus a Yanmar generator."

"GPS?"

"Yeah, Garmin for that and the radar."

"You've got the whole package, then."

"That was the plan. I can show you some pictures of what she looked like before I restored it four years ago. I know a lot of people were thinking I was wasting my time."

"No ... you didn't. It's beautiful. It's perfect. Who do I have to bribe to get this job?"

"Let's go into the cabin and talk. You need to know what I'm looking for and I need to know you can do the job."

I don't know why I spent the next half-hour with her. I knew she could do the job and I knew I was going to hire her. It was just a matter of settling the details. But first I wanted to know more about her.

"Were do you live?"

"Right this moment, nowhere. I've bailed out of my apartment. My soon-to-be ex-husband made life untenable for me."

"Where are your things? Clothes and stuff?"

"In my truck. I'll find a place."

"Are you working right now?"

She shook her head. "No ... but I've got a few bucks the lazy SOB couldn't get his hands on."

"Did he get physical with you?" I asked, wondering if some hulk wasn't going to try and track her down.

"He wouldn't dare. He'd be in emergency before he got a second chance."

I snorted. She didn't sound like someone who would stand being messed with.

"Anything else I should be aware of or worried about?"

She laughed. "Well, I'm not wanted by the police ... or my 'old man' as it turns out. I'm available for work right away. I can afford to buy a uniform if I need one. I have my own outerwear including a survival suit. I can rig fishing tackle, repair most engines, prepare food, clean toilets ... you know ... the usual female stuff."

"Okay, okay," I interrupted, holding my hand up. "You know what I'm paying. Any tips are your own. I'm insured and you will be covered by my health insurance after sixty days. Any questions?"

"Yeah ... what happened to the last deckhand?"

"Everyone I've hired has been a temp for the spring and summer season. Most of them are college kids. I want someone year-around. I don't have to depend on the charter business in the off-season, but there is some business if I want to take it. My corporate customer base is growing and they like to entertain clients in style. We provide that style."

"Yeah, I can see that. This is one very nice boat. You've done a hell of a job bringing it back to new."

"Thanks. It was a lot of work, but everyone who knows something about boats tells me it was worth it."

"I agree," she nodded.

"Where are you staying tonight?" I asked, remembering she had left her apartment and husband behind.

"I'll get a motel room for a few days until I can find another apartment."

"You can stay on the boat if you like. You'll have to get some food for yourself, but the power, water and sanitary system are all hooked up."

"Thanks, but you don't know me. Aren't you taking a risk?"

"I guess I am, but I'm taking a risk hiring you before I check your references. You need a place to stay temporarily and I have one. You might as well take advantage of the opportunity to get to know your workplace better."

"Okay, thanks. I'll take you up on your offer. I appreciate it."

"Can I help you with your things?"

"No need. I've just got one bag. There's nothing left at the apartment that I want."

"Okay, go ahead then," I said, passing her my card for the security gate. "I've got a couple of phone calls to make."

I waited until she was on the dock before I keyed in Joel's number.

"Hey, Joel, it's Pat Hamelin. Got a minute?"

"Sure, Pat. What can I do for you?"

"Do you know a family named Quinton?"

"Yeah ... Cam Quinton. If I remember, he has three daughters. Joan, Wendy and the youngest. Odd first name if I remember correctly."

"Would it be Ardele?"

"Yeah ... I think that's it all right. Why do you ask?"

"She applied for the deckhand job. She looks good on paper, but I wondered if you knew anything?"

"Not much, Pat. She was a serious student at BCIT and then, against her parents' wishes, married some guy. Pleko or Pleshko ... something like that."

"Okay. What was your impression of her?"

I could almost see him shaking his head. "Nothing special. Good student ... studying engineering or something like that. Not a problem, other than marrying this guy I mentioned."

"You know anyone at Inlet Towing?"

"Nope. Sorry, can't help you there."

"Okay. She gave the GM as a reference. I guess that should be good enough."

"Give him a call, Pat. You can usually tell if someone doesn't want to tell you everything."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Joel."

I waited for Del to return with her bag. It was almost the size of a hockey bag, so she wasn't leaving much behind in her former digs. It looked heavy but she didn't seem to be having any trouble with it slung over her shoulder. There was little doubt she was fit and strong.